A VERY OLD ROSE JAR

She ran across the lawn after the cat

And I saw through the old maid, as through a shadow,

A young girl in a white muslin dress running to meet her lover.

There was clashing of cymbals,

And the flash of nereids’ arms in autumn leaves.

A sharp high note died out like an ascending light.

Something sweet and wanton faded from the old maid's lips —

Something of Pierrot chasing after love,

A bacchante dying in her sleep,

A shadow,

And a gray cat.